The Wind-Blown Language: Papiamento (1945) - Jerome Littmann

THE WIND-BLOWN LANGUAGE:
PAPIAMENTO

JEROME EITTMANN

ARUBIANA/CARIBIANA

Pa referencia.

NO POR FIA.

For reference.

NOT TO BE TAKEN
FROM THIS ROOM.

f\ P toloc

' 7 '

Reprinted from
HISPANIA
Febniary 1945

THE WIND-BLOWN LANGUAGE: PAPIAMENTO

Jerome Littmann

Formerly Training Instructor, Logo Oil and Transport
Company, Aruba, Curaçao

Den mar Caribe
Di brisa fuerte
Tin un islita
Cu yam’ Aruba —

"In the Caribbean Sea,

Wind-swept,

Is a tiny isle
Called Aruba—”

S O BEGINS the Papiamento song A-uba Dushi, which chants the charms
of “Sweet Aruba,” one of the three little Caribbean islands just north
of Venezuela forming the Territory of Curaçao: Aruba, Bonaire, and
Curaçao. Di brisa fuerte affirms that they are right in the path of the trade
winds. The trades blow here all year round with a mean velocity of about
IS m.p.h., and always from the same direction—northeast. Indigenous to
these islands is the drui-divi tree (Coesalpinio coriorio), a short tree with
small green leaves that in other, less breezy stations of its habitat must take
on the normally haphazard appearance forced on trees by heliotropism. But
in these islands, the constant push of the trade winds has blown all the little
divi-divis into the same tortured pattern: they look like women, bent over
from the waist, with their long hair horizontal in the wind. The steady,
relentless trades, by their untiring, century-old strain, have standardized,
swept clean of all wayward branches, made almost identical one with
another, these divi-divis that otherwise would have been as individual, as
non-conforming as, well let us say—one Spanish irregular vetb and another.

On July 26, 1499, the Spanish navigator, Alonso Ojeda, accompanied by
Amerigo Vespucci, entered the bottle-neck harbor of Curaçao. In 1502
Ojeda back to the island as Governor, and so began the history of
Papiamento: a language molded, beaten, whipped, hammered, blown into
aimple, ultra-modem form by no less than forty-five nationalities during
the course of four centuries. As the persistent northeast trades have blown
all the wayward branches of the divi-divis into a regular, southwesterly
direction, so have the no less persistent efforts of the forty-five nationali¬
ties toward a lingua franca, a common meeting ground of communication,
blown Carib and Arawak Indian, African Negro, Dutch, Spanish, Portu¬
guese, Pn g lith , and French into the unbelievably regular Papiamento. A

1

2

Hispania

language without the benefit, or drag, of textbook*. No stuffy arguments
by fussy grammarians. The stilted, binding influence of no archaic litera¬
ture. Forty-five nationalities laughed, cried, talked, joked, fought, haggled,
loved, hated, lived with each other for four hundred years. The result:
Papiamento.

Constructions too complex for a Portuguese Jew to use with a Carib
Indian—out. Pronunciations too awkward for a Spaniard to use with a
Negro African slave—out. Words too formal for a Brazilian swain to
use with his Chinese girl—out. Spellings too difficult for the Dutch gover¬
nor to use in his tax-law declarations for the children of a Hindu mother
and a French father—out. Into the molten language went the latest slang
from the rebel English Colonies; the saltiest words in the pirate vocabulary
of the Spanish Main; the most picturesque intonations from slaves newly
arrived from the African jungles.

Seldom written, never taught in schools, but handed down from mouth
to mouth through the generations, what has lasted is the wheat without
the useless chaff. Papiamento (the word itself means speaking’ ) is pithy,
concise, quintessential, utilitarian, unencumbered with trifling adornments,
in a word: streamlined.

The strategic position of Curaçao in the Caribbean, its excellent harbor,
and the salt-licks cf adjacent Bonaire have made its two hundred and ten
sea-fringed square miles a tempting bait attracting the colonial forces of
Spain, France, England, Holland, and free-lance revolutionists ever since
the fifteen-hundreds. Its extensive sea trade lured three-masted birds of
prey flying the Jolly Roger; little Aruba still whispers of pirate caves and
of sunken treasure in the waters of Balashi.

The hundred and thirty-two years of Spanish rule between 1502 and
1634 gave Papiamento its Castilian base, which accounts fpr about sixty
per cent of the language; but it got a powerful impetus with the arrival of
Samuel Cohefio in 1634. In that year the Spaniards retired from the Terri¬
tory in favor of the Dutch. Cohefio, originally a Portuguese Jew, came from
Holland to serve as interpreter between the Dutch, Spaniards, and native
Indians. The fact that in 1634 he was named "Captain of the Indians”
indicates that he must have had immediate success in bringing these diverse
peoples together with some sort of language melange.

Peter Stuyvesant, Governor of Curaçao in 1643, made the island the
flourishing center of the African slave trade. Through the intercession of
commercial houses in Madrid, slaves were imported from the Gold Coast,
the Congo, Loango, and Angola. To Stuyvesant goes the malodorous credit
of having started Curaçao on its two-hundred-year career of being the
principal purveyor of slaves for the Spanish colonies. Peter Stuyvesant
left behind in Curaçao his right leg and a pungent jungle flavor in Papia-

The Wind-Blown Language: Papiamento 3

mento. The West India Company licensed the influx into Curaçao of
groups, mostly Portuguese, fleeing from racial and religious persecution.
Attempted invasions by the French, and the English rule from 1804 to
1816, provided more piquant seasoning for the simmering language.

From down deep in the holds of the slave ships bringing their cargoes
of misery from the Congo to the Curazoleño market, comes one of the
Papiamento nouns: macamba. It has been reported as derived from an
African dialect where it meant "white man.” Behind the word macamba
lurk the filthy, 125-foot sailing ships carrying hundreds of black, tortured
souls; the dysentery, the scurvy, the fever, the pleurisy that almost halved
the human cargoes before-the boats sailed into St. Annabaai. Survivors of
these foul voyages were, upon landing, further subjected to hot-iron
branding on their chests or arms. The inhuman treatment the poor blacks
suffered is still part of the sad connotation of macamba. It is now simply
the Papiamento term for Dutchman, but something distasteful lingers
with the pronouncing of the word.

Papiamento verbs are a delight to the grammar-weary. Tradesmen and
pirates, slave-traders and sailors have business to transact and, generally
speaking, care precious little whether the e changes to »or the third-person-
singular takes an s so long as the other fellow knows what you are talking
about. Papiamento has the present, imperfect, future, and perfect tenses;
the active and passive voices; the indicative, potential, and subjunctive
modes. All regular! What makes conjugation in Papiamento as rippling as
a mountain stream is that three of the four tenses are patterned on the
verb to, “to be.” Learn la, and you have three-quarters of the inflected
forms of all the other verbs (see accompanying chart).

Words in Papiamento derived from Spanish are stripped of their em¬
bellishments and reduced to stark utility. For example, the Spanish verb
caber, a nightmare disturbing the repose of Spanish students, is caba in
Papiamento and goes through its tenses as just caba, blissfully unaware
of all the tortuous inflections of its castellang cognate. Significar and
obscvro are denuded to nifica and scur.

Rules are unnecessary when all nouns form their plurals in exactly the
same way. Add the third-person-plural pronoun, non, to a noun, any norm,
all nouns! and you get the plural. In the last few years Papiamento has
acquired such staunch North American substantives as bus and truck. In
Aruba, Bonaire, and Curaçao they speak of two busncm, and more than
one truck is referred to as truck nan.

In a similar fashion, words and phrases from other languages have been
assimilated, down through the decades, into Papiamento. It is rather
curious that names of practically all instruments and working tools—
hermentrum —are of Dutch origin, while expressions applying to social life.

4

Hispania

MODEL PAPIAMENTO C0NJVGAT10SS

THE VERB TA (BE) THE VERB STIMA (LOVE)

INDICATIVE MODE
Present Tense

Active

Passive

Mi

Nos

Mi]

Nos

Mi

Nos

Bo

13 1

Boso

Bo

ta stima

Boso

Bo

ta worde stima

Boso

E

1

Nan

E j

Nan

E

Nan

Imperfect Tense

Mi]

Nos

Mi]

Nos

Mi]

Nos

Bo

tabata \

Boso

Bo

tabata stima

Boso

Bo

tabata worde stima

Boso

E

1

Nan

E

Nan

E

Nan

Future Tense

Mi]

Nos

Mi]

No*

Mi]

Nos

Bo

lo ta

Boso

Bo

lo stima

Boso

Bo

lo worde stima

Boso

E

Nan

E

Nan

E

Nan

Perfect Tense

The verb ta

Mi

Nos

Mi]

Nos

lacks this

Bo

a stima

Boso

Bo

a worde stima

Boso

tense.

E

[Nan

E

Nan

POTENTIAL MODE

Present Tense

Mi

Nos

Mi

[No*

Mil

Nos

Bo

‘ por ta

Boso

Bo

por stima

Boso

Bo

por worde stima

Boso

E J

Nan

E

(Nan

E

[Nan

Future Tense

Mi

Nos

Mi

Nos

Mi

Nos

Bo

lo por ta

Boso

Bo

► lo por stima

Boso

Bo

► lo por worde stima

Boso

E

Nan

E

Nan

E

Nan

Past-Time

Mi

(Nos

Mi

[No.

Mi

[No.

Bo

por tabata

Boso

Bo

por a stima

Bo*o

Bo

por a worde stima

Boso

E

Nan

E

Nan

E

Nan

religion, and etiquette have a Latin background and character: taag (saw),
scruf (screw), Irekler (funnel), potlood (pencil), Ussenaar (desk), verf
(paint), sker (scissors), bril (spectacles). But a typical advertisement in

The Wind-Blown Language: Papiamento 5

SUBJUNCTIVE MODE

The Subjunctive Mode, for the moet part, duplicate! the Indicative except in the
pait-time tenses, which are blended as in the Potential Mode:

Past-Time

Active

Passive

Mi)

Nos

Mi)

[Nos

Mi

Nos

Bo)

lo tabata

Boso

Bo)

lo a stima

{Boso

Bo

lo a worde stima

Boso

E J

Nan

E J

[Nan

E

Nan

Imperative:

Impera

tive:

Sea

Stima

Ta has no

Participles:

participles.

Present: stimando

Past: stima

Any other verb stem (e.g., admira admire or be surprised at, combini agree, eushiua cook,
parti divide, guia guide, hart laugh, sinja learn or teach, salba save) can be put through
the above inflections with hardly an exception.

the weekly newspaper, La Cruz, would read: Pa medio di es lineanan aki
nos kier expresa nos sincera gratiiud Ho tur omigo-i conocirnan ku di un
of otro manera a munstra nos nan atencion na ocasion di morto di nos
inolvidable casa, tata, ruman i amigo, -Adolfo Tromp (Q.E.P.D.) No.
nomber di e famia: B. V. Tromf.

“By means of these lines, we want to express our sincere gratitude to
all friends and acquaintances who, in one way or another, showed us
their attention on the occasion of the death of our unforgettable husband,
father, brother, and friend, Adolfo Tromp (may he rest in peace). In the
name of the family: B. V. Tromp.”

That announcement is not Papiamento. It is a stilted form affected for
public notices, invitations, and the like. It demonstrates clearly that, while
the Dutch derivations are for the homely, everyday matters, a sprinkling
of Spanish lends elegance and finesse.

Genders go by the board in Papiamento. The definite article is r; the
indefinite article is un ; both may precede any noun. E homber, t muher,
e potlood. The man, the woman, the pencil. Un muchahomber, un mueho-
muher, un scool. A boy, a girl, a school.

In Spanish 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15 are dies, once, doce, trees, cotorce,
quince; 16, 17, 18, 19 are diecisEs, diecisiete, dieciocho, diecinueve. Papia¬
mento has recognized this inconsistency by counting dies, die run, dissdos,
dieztres, diezeuatro, diezcinco, and then on into diezseis, etc.

Syntax is refreshingly simple. Subject, predicate—in that order—and
that’s all. Interrogatory sentence: use a question-mark and raise the pitch
in your voice. E tin idea di bed K or sou. “He is thinking of going to

° Hispania

Cu raça°.” £ tin idea di bat KorsouT "Is he thinking of going to Curaçao?”

The polite form of European tongues has its simplified counterpart in
rapiamento. The name of the person addressed is used rather than the
personal pronoun. Bo ta gusto mi sombréf “Do you like my hat?” is the
intimate form. Sr. Croes ta gusto mi sombrif “Do you like my hat, Mr.
Croes? is the polite form.

Papiamento pronunciation has been worn down to a mirror smooth¬
ness. The Spanish mujer is muher in Papiamento. The aspirated h gives
you almost the same effect as j, but with much less effort. The ll (elle) of
Castilian is eroded down to y. Spanish v's are b’s. The word Have (key)

m Papiamento is yabi. Try pronouncing the two and see if yabi isn’t Have
after a greasing job.

The idiom is kept up-to-date. A droll wise-crack, a delicious bon mot¬
if it introduces a snappy new word or the new use of an old world—soon
becomes a permanent fixture. About ten years ago, an Aruban with a
gouty foot entered the dispensary of the newly-established oil company on
that island. “Better stay away from cheap rum,” joked the doctor. The
story spread, and ever since the Papiamento word for cheap rum has been
'‘ swollen foot ” E ta toca piano bon (“He plays the piano
well ) is standard for a nimble-fingered kleptomaniac. The stale maxim
Anoeh, tur pushi ta pretu (“At night all cats are black"), met the tempo’
of the times by being altered to Den e blackout tur pushi ta pretu.

Surely, no poetry in any language was ever more fervidly instant than
this song that rose from the exultant throats of 7,989 slaves of the Terri¬
tory of Curaçao, emancipated July 1, 1863:

Rumannan I Gradici cu nos
Pa Cielo su bondad.

Bam canta awor cu tur nos bos
Biba La Libertadl
Awe pa boluntad di Rei
I bos di nos nacion t
Igual nos ta dilanti lei
I liber di tur shon.

"Brothers 1 Give thanks with us
For Heaven’s grace.

Come and sing now with might and main
Long live Liberty I
Today, by the will of the King
And decree of our country
We are equal before the law
And freed of all masters.”

There is no wealth of literature in Papiamento. It is not possible to
quote long passages, the immortal heritage of a national genius. But a

The Wind-Blown Lancuage: Papiamento

7

storehouse of philosophy and human understanding has been compressed
into their proverbs. A few words take the place of libraries. Thought,
human perception, compensation for great books are in the Papiamento
proverbionan. Volumes are contained in simple sentences bandied across
the family dinner-table, in the reprimands given by mothers to their way¬
ward young 'uns.

Mrs. Croes, for instance, chatting with Mrs. Oduber over the cactus
fence separating their respective back yards, might demonstrate an undue
interest in the private affairs of Mrs. Oduber’s household. Mrs. Oduber,
who is an isolationist and "likes for people to mind strictly to their own
business,” might say, Panja sushi mester la laba na cas. "Dirty clothes
must be washed at home.” That expression would not have been coined
by Mrs. Oduber. It is generations old and is succinct for reminding people
that a family skeleton must be kept in its closet.

Children sometimes are a nuisance, but what are you to do ? No tin wea
pa stoba yiu malucu. “There isn’t a pot to stew bad children in.” Children
can’t be cooked, used in any way: you’ve just got to suffer them. Speaking
of family woes, Pieuw di bo mes cabez ta pica mas duro. "Lice on your
own head bite harder.” When trouble hits one's own flesh-and-blood, one
feels it more keenly than when it strikes next door.

Can’t you see a shy Aruban boy of eighteen who has been casting bashful
glances at pretty little Maximina Dirksz—can’t you hear his father telling
him, Amor scondi ta tempo perdi. "Undeclared love is time lost.” Puppy
love: Amor di mucha ta awa den macutu. “Teen-age love is water in an
open-work basket.” Cooperation: Un man ta laba otro ; tur dos ta bira
limpi. “One hand washes the other; both get clean.” Tiring exhibitionists
who love to bewail and bemoan their sad histories in public are told, Larga
morto na santana, bin yora na cas. “Leave the corpse at the cemetery; go
home to cry."

The age-old truths brought home by our English adages acquire new
facets when ground by Papiamento cutters. "A new broom sweeps clean”
gets its direct antithesis with Un basora bieuw conoce tur huki den cas.
“An old broom knows all the comers in the house.” “Cleanliness is next to
Godliness” surely can’t have an opposing voice. But to a people for whom
fresh water is a luxury (it is sold at so-much a can), it must certainly be
a comfort at times to repeat, Curpa sushi no ta mala. “A dirty body
doesn’t kill." “Chickens come home to roost” has its Caribbean version,
Giambo bieuw a bolbe na wea. "Old okra comes back to the pot” Like
father, like son”: Pam puna no sa pari calbas. "The pumpkin plant doesn’t
bear calabashes.” Wells in these islands are generally level with the surface
of the ground with no superstructure. Ora bise a hoga, nan ta dempel t
pos. “After the calf is drowned, they cover the well.”—“After the horse is

8

Hispania

stolen, the stable door is locked.” Many an American child has answered
his disciplining parent’s classical “This hurts me more than it does you,”
with an unspoken "Oh yeah ?” Papiaraento gets down to undisguised brass
tacks with, Mehor un yiu yora cu su mama yora. "Better the child cry
than his mother.”

This next proverb brings to mind the newspaper story of the Nazi puppet
who had been conducting a fierce anti-Semitic campaign in a Balkan country.
Somehow or^other it finally came to light that this official himself had
had a Hebrate grandmother. He retired ignominiously from public life.
No scupi na cielo, pa e no coiden bo mes cara. "Don’t spit upwards, for it
will fall back in your own (ace.’’*

Lizards are a problem in the Territory. They eat produce as fast as it
grows. Fences between fields offer an excellent means of transportation
for the pests. Si bo no kier tin gera cu lagadishi, no planta boonchi cerca e
trankera. "If you don’t want war with the lizards, don’t plant beans near
the fence.” Be a bit circumspect if you’re not after trouble. "Don’t lead
with your chin 1 The monkey is a favorite foil of Papiamento proverbs.
Actually, monkeys are not found locally, but somehow macacu is an epithet
that appeals when describing a fool. At the child who has broken a newly-
received toy by excessive handling, the Papiamento parent shakes a repri¬
manding finger: Macacu ta hunga cu wowo di su yiu te ora e sacele. "A
monkey plays with its baby’s eye until the eye falls out.” That experience
is the best teacher, even for the simpleton, is exemplified by Un macacu
ta subi palu di sumpinja un biahe so. "A monkey climbs a cactus tree only
once.”

Its dry, unbountiful climate makes the Territory of Curaçao barren and
unfruitful. Instead of the lush growth expected of the tropics, in "good”
years (average yearly rainfall: 16:29 inches) there are a few beans,
skimpy maize, tiny watermelons, and an occasional cashew fruit. In bad
years (not infrequently, the annual rainfall is but eight to twelve inches)
there are the cacti and the sea-grapes. Keeping body and soul together on
maize boiled in brackish well-water ( funchi ) has made the inhabitants
philosophical in the face of arid adversity. Si e no yobe, lo pinga. "If it
doesn’t rain, it will at least drizzle.”—"It’s a long lane that has no turning.”

There are scores of other Papiamento proverbs illustrating the patience
inculcated by the geographical Mother Hubbard whose cupboard is only
too often bare: Ora no tin pan, mister come casaba. "When there isn’t
bread, one must eat cassava." The rigors of wrathful waters have elicited
a similar sentiment from seafaring English peoples, "Any old port in a

* This is of course a translation of a Spanish proverb—used in Don Qui/ote — —A
others common in Papiamento doubtless have a Spanish source. Editor.

The Wind-Blown Language: Papiamento

9

storm.” Observing a fowl enjoying a dust-bath has helped many a neces¬
sarily ascetic citizen of the Territory put up with his own meagre lot.
Gallinja ta banja cu e awa cu e tin. “A chicken bathes with the sort of
water she has at hand.”

To the wastrel who forgets that Nature is inexorable, that seeds not
planted when a few drops of rain fall can rarely be sown later, that only
poor substitutes can be found for bounties once let slip, the wrinkled old
Aruban lady with the black shawl over her head would say, Esun cu ta
perde sonjo na cabez, ta busk’e na pia. “He who loses sleep in his head
must seek it in his feet.” A foot asleep is a sad compensation for a night’s
rest, she means. The man who squanders a substantial legacy may later
have to seek a hand-to-mouth existence selling lottery tickets in the street.

The weary mother says to the child fretting under the monotonous diet
of fish, salt meat, and boiled maize, Cacho nenga wesu, ta wesu mes e
mester come. "A dog turns down a bone; it’s that very bone he must eat.”
The exigencies of life make it unwise to turn up one’s nose at any bit of
sustenance; stern necessity will make it mighty welcome later on. Enforced
submission to the hardships inflicted by dour environment and circum¬
stances has been epitomized with, Ora bo ta bao e palu , mester wanta cu
sushi di para. "When you’re under a tree, you must put up with bird-
droppings.”

The Territory’s scanty flora and fauna have made local people unmerci¬
fully dependent on the outside world. Wars, piracy, and sea blockades
have continually shut off supplies, forcing them back on their own poor,
inadequate resources. The privations necessarily brought on by warfare to
any people have, therefore, been felt more keenly by them, isolated as they
are. When submarines in the Second World War cut off the accustomed
provisions from the States and Europe, Curazoleños shrugged their
shoulders, did without, and said what many generations of their ancestors
have said over and over again in the course of Curasao’s turbulent past—
in 1804, for instance, during the siege of the island by the English Com¬
mander Bligh—or in 1713, for another instance, during the invasion of
the French under de Cassart —Tempo di geraHo tin miso. "In time of
war, there isn’t any religion.” In wartime, luxuries are not to be had.

Volapuk, Esperanto, Ido and at least eight other artificial tongues have
been fostered as international languages for their (1) easy phonetics, (2)
simple grammar, (3) facility of translation and interpretation, and (4)
Occidental vocabulary base. Papiamento has all four attributes, and what is
more it has what no manufactured language can ever boast: a spon¬
taneous, up-from-the-people naturalness. Like the trade winds on the
divi-divis, the succeeding, heterogeneous generations have gradually worn
away all egregious, unnatural Papiamentoisms. All the capricious, forward

10

Hispania

little language upshoots that couldn’t stand the year-by-year, hammering
blast of pirates, slaves, Conquistadores, Indians, and traveling salesmen
were soon blown off the parent tree. Trying to be affected in Papiamento is
like walking down the Bowery in a morning coat and top hat—m either
case, you won’t get very far.

That Papiamento has in it truly cosmopolitan elements may be demon¬
strated by this incident. Several years ago, the writer, who knew neither
Spanish nor Portuguese, boarded the night train at Sao Paulo, Brazil, bound
for Rio de Janeiro. The intimacy of a tiny compartment shared with a
non-English-speaking Brazilian is still painful. From 9 p.m. to 6 a.m. the
conversationless silence was haunting. Wakened from a cat-nap at dawn
by the sudden lurching of the train, I inadvertently asked, in Papiamento,
of my fellow-traveler, "Nos a yega?" In purest Papiamento he responded,
"Aindo no!" That it was Portuguese, too, didn’t faze me. We had material
with which to break that nine-hour silence! We chatted through breakfast
in the dining car, and he saw me to my destination in Rio. Still recalling
his beaming, moustached face bidding me “Te olro bez!’ from the rear
window oh a taxi starting down the Avenida President Wilson, the next
year I boldly used Papiamento for Spanish in lofty Bogota, Colombia.
Dieztres for trece was humiliating but understandable.

For three hundred years Dutch has bfeen the official language in the
Territory of Curaçao. Dutch is used in the schools, right from the first
grades. In an Aruban schoolroom, for example, may be found Aruban,
Hindu, English Negro, Chinese, and Venezuelan children. In school they
speak and write a fair Dutch; but once beyond the precincts of learning,
they chatter and play in an effervescent Papiamento. Government clerks
may use Dutch all day long while at the office, but at home with their
families their medium is Papiamento. Even after three centuries of official
Dutch, the local missionaries—whose churches are, in part, Government-
supported—must preach in Papiamento. Plain, artless, pointblank Papia¬
mento keeps resisting all onslaughts of the festooned, guileful, and turgid
European tongues.

There is an expression to indicate contempt ior anything showy that
contains, in proportion to its glittering promise, a disappointing amount of
tangible substance: Ho pi scuma, poco chocolati. “A lot of foam, but little
chocolate.”

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You do not have to comply with the license for elements of the material in the public domain or where your use is permitted by

an applicable exception or limitation.

No warranties are given. The license may not give you all of the permissions necessary for your intended use. For example,

other rights such as publicity, privacy, or moral rights may limit how you use the material.